The Life and Lies Of Effie Trinkett
by Missy Tea
Summary: Effie was a lady. From a tiny girl Effie had been a lady. But when life throws rocks at you it gets harder than ever. Especially when you fall for the wrong man.


**This was never supposed to turn out like this. It was supposed to be a short and cute fic based off a quote from a show I'm addicted too. I decided that it sounded just like Effie. But then it grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go, so I ended up with this monster of a fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.**

 **I own nothing.**

Effie Trinket was a lady. Effie had always been a lady, ever since she was an itty bitty little thing. To be a lady was one of the things her Aunt had insisted on when Effie had gone to live with her at the tender age of five. Her mother had been somewhat of an embarrassment to her family and Aunt Bella had never let Effie forget it. When ever Effie picked up a knife incorrectly, or forgot to say please or thank you there was always a comment on how she was no better than her mother. So from a very young age Effie had done her best to be the polar opposite of her mother. Manners had been the very first thing her wise old Aunt had taught her. Say please and thank you, smile, bow and scrape. Never ever let anyone know what you were really thinking. Walk with your head held high at all times and never let them see you cry. All pieces of wisdom her aunt had installed into her young mind. Effie had always been a Lady.

She dressed impeccably, squeezed herself into corsets so tight she could barely breath and learnt the art of applying make-up to fit in with current fashions. As time went on she discovered it was easier to hide what you were thinking when you weren't wearing your own face. Over the years she convinced herself that her real face, without all the paints and patterns was something so ghastly that no one should ever have to see it. When natural hair became a thing of times gone by Effie was the first to have her beautiful blonde curls, another similarity to her mother, cut short and replaced with wigs, which grew more elaborate as the years went by. Wigs became the one way she could express herself without retribution and the brighter they were the more people loved them. She taught herself to walk in the highest of heels, suffering through countless blisters, aching calves and one twisted ankle. But before long she could walk like she was born in them, and had soon mastered the scornful look that she gave others when they could not. She elevated herself to a level where she became a mystery to most and a legend to others. When she was chosen as an escort it could not have been more perfect. Apart from the victors themselves, the escorts where the ones that everyone watched. She had become one of the best, and she would make sure her tributes were a reflections of her. Most importantly Effie had never let anyone see her cry. They never saw the tears she shed watching young children die in the arena. They never saw the painful tears she cried at night, when she took off the costume and the paint and didn't recognize herself in the mirror. They never saw the tears of frustration, or heard the muttered insults that crossed her lips when she was forced to deal with Haymitch Abernathy, district twelve's sole victor. Effie was a lady, and had been raised in circles of gentlemen. She had no idea how to deal with the most disgusting, ill mannered, alcoholic she had ever had the misfortune to meet.

They bickered. Constantly. He threw up on her favorite pair of shoes and she poured all his alcohol down the sink. He retaliated by drinking all her mouth wash and missing the train to district one, effectively ruining her schedule. She never yelled at him though, she had been taught never to raise your voice, especially indoors. She turned the other check when he yelled at her and swore like a sailor. She knew that it was unforgivable for a lady to swear.

Effie never let anyone know what she was thinking, but that didn't stop her from having her fair share of romantic conquests. They were never for long and she never loved any of them. After three, sometimes four, months the man she was currently seeing would always break it off claiming she was too much of an air head to be wife material. So Effie's biggest surprise was finding herself engaged to a Galahad Portshore. He was handsome in a bookish sort of way and came from one of the richest families in the capital. Effie had dated him because he was one of the biggest sponsors of the games and Panem's most eligible bachelor. After two months of dating Effie was taken by surprise when she was met one afternoon by Galahad, his parents, copious amounts of champagne and a diamond ring. The looks of hope and joy on their faces had been too much to bear, so when he uttered the dreaded words

"Effie, will you marry me?" Effie had replied with

"Okay."

Several hours later and too many glasses of liquor to count she had returned to the penthouse, feet aching, dress untidy and a hickey on her neck, only to find Haymitch waiting for her, reading the paper. He had taken one look at her appearance, which was ruffled and so very un Effie like and had asked what the matter was. Effie drew herself up to her tallest, which wasn't very tall at all and announced in her most snooty tone.

"I am engaged to be married."

"What?"

"To Galahad Portshore."

Haymitch had rubbed his ear and sat down hard.

"Wow, I didn't know it was that serious between you."

For the first time in fifteen years, Effie allowed the facade to slip

"Neither did I."

"So then why did you accept?" He had asked, sipping his drink. She didn't answer, but instead poured herself a drink and picked up her clipboard.

"Aw come on you can tell me." Haymitch slurred. "I probably won't even remember in the morning."

Effie broke, and told him everything. By the time she had finished Haymitch looked highly amused. After a few beats of silence he had broken into hysterical laughter

"You got engaged to him, to be polite?" He had asked in between chuckles. Effie felt her anger grow. She didn't want to be married to him. He was sweet and kind and funny but he wasn't what she wanted. But she knew that it was bad manners to let people down. So she had done what she always did, and conformed. But it was getting too much, far too much. Her life was being taken away from her. And then the anger burst.

"Well clearly there's a downside to having good manners!" Effie shrieked, slamming her glass onto the table and slumping back into her chair. Haymitch stopped laughing and took a gulp of his drink.

"So sweetheart, what you gonna do?"

"I haven't a fucking clue."

Again the look of shock from Haymitch followed by a tiny chuckle.

"Well I suppose you could always use language like that in front of him." He suggested "he's very proper. Must be why he liked you so much."

She narrowed her eyes at him

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you noticed? He does everything by the book. If you told him to jump off a cliff he'd do it."

"...and you're suggesting?" She asked, narrowing her eyes

"Don't do things by the book." He shrugged "break the rules."

"I can't do that." She said stiffly "my aunt would be horrified."

With that, she began to cry. Eventually she fell into a doze, but not before Haymitch covered her with a blanket and whispered

"I'll take care of it princess."

A few days later Galahad had ended it between them and Effie had never found out why. But she and Haymitch reached an understanding. She left him to his alcohol and he left her to her outrageous ways. But he also became the only person who she let see behind her mask. The mask that she had spent years building and perfecting. He was still the disgusting, crude alcoholic and she was still the obnoxious, bright busy body when they were around others but they both came to cherish the moments in the evening when they were alone. He held her while she cried, laughed when she strutted around and slammed doors when things didn't go her way. He would quietly hand her a drink and let her lay her head in his lap when she'd had a particularly bad day.

It was a few years after that when Effie let her facade slip again, in the 74th hunger games when their tributes had gotten off the train. The girl glaring at the crowds and the boy waving at them all like they were long lost friends. She stood back in the train and watched. She felt his arms wrap around her waist and she leant back against him. It felt so good to have someone to lean on in this crazy world.

"Got a couple of fighters this year" he commented, his breath tickling her ears. She looked at the dent in her table and nodded

"That we do."

Then one of the doors to the control room had opened and a man stepped through. She jerked away from him, but it was too late. He had already seen. The next few weeks were hectic, collecting sponsors and getting their tributes ready for the games. Cinna was working his magic on Katniss and on Effie as well. No one would have guessed that she wanted out. Then came the nail biting days of the games themselves. Not that Effie would ever bite her nails. Despite the temptation when it came down to to just the two of their tributes, one bleeding out and the other laying down her bow. Then the announcement came, they would have two victors that year and Effie felt her knees go weak. Then his arms went around her, and hers around him and he was kissing her. And for the first time in years, Effie felt alive. When they broke apart neither said anything but instead left the room in opposite directions both steadying themselves to deal with Snow's wrath. Later, when they eventually made it back to the penthouse she merely said

"That can never happen again." And he had replied

"I know."

They got back to twelve and she left him and went home to try and regain some control of her life. She was still Effie, the perfect lady, who attended parties and hosted dinner parties and went shopping everyday. But she felt dead inside. She had felt that spark, and now she wanted it back. But if she had the spark she couldn't be everything else she told herself that she was, so she forced it down and her mask got brighter and thicker. She survived the victory tour without incident, despite the heat she had felt when he danced with her at Snow's ball. But then he was gone again and the separation was harder than ever. Deep inside her, she missed him. So the corsets got tighter and the hair got bigger and she sidetracked herself by becoming even more perfect.

Then came the quarter quell and the knowledge that she might have to send him back into the games. Back to his nightmares. Back to his death. She had been at a party, when the announcement came. She had gasped and clapped along with the rest of them and had drunk a toast to Panem. She held it together, because she was a lady. Until she got back to her tiny little flat and wept until the morning. Then, she picked herself up, reapplied her makeup and started making plans for how she would keep her tributes alive. It wasn't until the day of the reaping when she arrived at his house that she allowed it to hit home. She knocked on his door and he yelled for her to let herself in. She found him in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. When she raised her eyebrow he explained that Katniss had taken him off alcohol in case he was chosen to go back into the games. She looked at him and whispered

"I can't"

"You must." And then he was on her, kissing her hard like a man possessed, pinning her to the wall, her hands high above her head. He was kissing down her neck his stubble rubbing her raw. He was lifting her skirt and she was pulling at his belt, it was rough and it hurt but it felt so good and made her feel so alive and before she knew it she felt a rush of pleasure so strong that she felt she might pass out. He let her gently down and turned away to put his clothing to rights and she did the same. She didn't say a word to him until she was reading the word

"Haymitch Abernathy" out and hating herself for having to do it. But then Peeta was volunteering and the hate was replaced with a sense of relief followed by the most horrible guilt imaginable. How could she be relieved that she was sending a young man back into the games instead of him? What kind of person was she. She held it together in front of the children and the cameras but every night on the train she cried herself to sleep. She didn't seek his comfort, instead she blocked him out along with the rest of the world.

The weeks before the games were more intense than ever before. They were coming from behind, as every other tribute had had years to build up support. Worst of all, she seemed to be doing it all alone, as Haymitch was always holed up somewhere with Beetee and Finnick. She wanted to scream at him that he was supposed to be helping Katniss and Peeta, not the rest of the world but Effie was a lady and did her duty. It was her idea to get the matching jewelry to give them some connection. He had taken it without a word and when they were standing watching the Games about to start she noticed that he wasn't wearing the bangle. Rejection cut her to the bone, tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she turned away towards the elevator before she saw Finnick wearing it in the area. For the first time in her career as an Escort Effie did not watch the games. She kept the facade up, smiled, laughed and convinced sponsors to support them. She didn't speak to anyone unless her job insisted that she did. And then everything went to hell.

The screens had gone blank and no one knew what had happened. She knew Katniss was dead thanks to her arrow hitting the force field, and Peeta was missing. No one knew what had happened to the other tributes. She ran to the elevator and frantically pressed the number 12. She had to find him, had to know what had happened what the plan was. Only when she got to the top, there was no one there. He was gone and so was all his stuff. He had left her.

At first they left her alone, locked in the penthouse. She still got the best food and drink and President Snow occasionally visited her. She knew that the man was getting frustrated with her for not knowing anything, he anger more and more visible each visit. Effie remained polite, still smiled, and pretended that she was disgusted at Katniss's behavior in the games. She didn't know about the baby until the peacekeepers came for her. She ended up lying on the filthy floor of a cell, somewhere under the presidential palace sobbing so hard that she could barely breath. She had done her best, given people what they wanted, never argued and still she had lost everything. The wigs, the make-up, the facade. Her baby. His baby. And him. But when she heard the guards heavy footsteps down the stairs, Effie would sit up and wipe away her tears. Time became liquid, she didn't know how many hours, days or months she stayed in the dark cell. Every so often she was taken into a brightly lit room and questioned. Always the same. Where was the Mockingjay? Where was Haymitch Abernathy? Who organized the escape? A lady did not lie, so Effie told the truth. She didn't know. She was beaten for it and starved for days on end before the cycle started again. The last time was especially bad, and when they threw her back into her cell she stayed in a heap on the ground. The next thing she knew she was being carried by strong arms into a hovercraft. She felt a drip be inserted into her arm and she let her eyes fall closed. Somehow, she knew she was safe.

The next time her eyes opened, she was staring into a bright light. When she tried to sit up, she found that she was tied to the bed.

"You're awake."

"Where am I?" She had asked, her voice croaky from not being used in so long

"District thirteen" she heard him say

His face came into view above her, smiling as a hand reached out to touch her hair

"I can't move."

Haymitch froze and removed his hand. A few seconds later she felt the straps over her legs and wrists loosen, and she pushed herself up. The world spun and she lay back with her eyes closed until she felt steady again.

"Sorry about that" he said "they had to keep you still during your nightmares."

"Haymitch." She said opening her eyes. He smiled gently at her and reached for her hand "Get out. I don't want to see you."

"But-"

"Now!" She ordered in her most authorative voice. Her heart rate spiked and one of the machines she was attached to starting beeping. A medic came in with a syringe full of blue liquid and the last thing she saw was his heartbroken expression as he left the room, letting the door slam behind him. She awoke alone the next time, apart from a young nurse. She was asked questions about everything that had happened in the capital, and to Effie's surprise she told her everything. From the questioning, to the beating, to the loss of her baby. The nurse had cooed and clucked and in the end Effie had sent her away, before she desolved into tears once more. Later, when Effie picked up a mirror lying on her bedside table she wanted to cry again. Her face was thin and gaunt from the lack of food. She had stitches running from her forehead down to one cheek and she was covered in bruises. But slowly, slowly her wounds healed, she gained some of her weight back and the scars the were left she could disguise with make-up. When Effie had demanded the makeup, President Coin had put her foot down. Unfortunately for her, she was dealing with Effie Trinkett, who demanded in the most ladylike manner she knew how that she be allowed to wear just enough to hide the scars. After much back and forth, Coin had finally consented. Effie swore to her dying breath that she had taken coffee away as payback. Before too long she was released from the hospital and assigned her own bunker. Plutarch became a constant visitor and before long he had her helping out with all the Mockingjay plans. One afternoon while going over the plans for a promo, Haymitch had stormed into the room, ordered everyone else out and had locked the door behind him.

"Haymitch, what on earth are you doing?" She had asked very patiently, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of her. His hands slammed on the table and the glass slipped from her hands

"Haymitch!"

"You miscarried?!" He demanded. Effie, stood up and carefully moved a stack of papers away from the spreading puddle

"So what if I did?" She asked calmly. He gaped at her before yelling

"So you should have told me!"

"Do stop yelling Haymitch, you're giving me a dreadful headache."

"Damnit Effie! Stop it. Stop shutting me out!"

Effie froze, the papers still gathered in her hands. Slowly she turned to face him.

"Stop shutting you out?" She repeated "is that what you said? Need I remind you, Haymitch, that you left me!"

She waited for his response, but he stared at her with an open mouth so she continued, he voice getting higher and higher as she went on

"I trusted you, and you left me! You started a rebellion and you left me to take the fall for it. I spent months in a cell being beaten and starved all because I wasn't important enough to be told what was going on."

"Effie-"

"I didn't tell you I miscarried because it was none of your bloody business!"

"Effie, it was my baby too. I deserved to know." He yelled back at her, walking towards her until he was standing right in front of her. She took a deep breath and said with as much venom as she could muster

"Would have even cared? When you clearly don't care about me."

She side stepped him and walked towards the door when suddenly she felt his hand wrap like a vise around her wrist

"How dare you?" He growled into her ear "You know family is everything to me."

Effie tugged herself loose and threw the papers back onto the table, letting them float around the room

"I am not your family." She growled, before unlocking the door and stalking out with as much dignity as she could manage.

Weeks went by without seeing him. She was told that he was drying out on one of the lower levels on thirteen. She helped with the promos and when he eventually came back, she worked with him like she worked with everyone else. Katniss went off to the capital, along with Peeta and she spent her days watching the television for news. Occasionally he would join her, but they never touched, never spoke, never shared looks like they used to. The news twisted and changed on a daily basis. Katniss was dead, Katniss was alive, Gale was captured. Eventually they took the presidential palace, and Snow was to be executed.

"Katniss has requested that she do it." Haymitch told her when they received the news. It was the first words they'd spoken to one another since the argument "I want you to go down there and help prep her." Effie opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off "I'm not asking on my behalf, Effie. Do it for her."

She nodded and he got up to leave the room. He stopped just inside the doorway and added

"I'm sorry that I left you. I never dreamed that they would hurt you, and I'm sorry that they did. If I could go back and change it I would. You are the only family I have." And then he was gone, but not before he heard her whisper

"I know."

Effie arrived in the Capital and was taken to the palace where Katniss was waiting for her in one of the guest bedrooms. The girl was covered in burns, half her hair had been singed off and she had a look that Effie recognized as the same she wore a few months ago. It was a look of someone who was barely keeping it together. She got Katniss eating again, made her take her medicine and stopped Coin and Plutarch from pushing her into Snow's execution. By the time Katniss walked out onto the stage where president snow was tied up, she looked young and healthy again. Haymitch stood next to her as the watched the broadcast from inside. There was something quite satisfying about watching the man who had taken everything away from her, especially their baby, be tied to a post and forced to kneel. She watched as Katniss raised the bow and pulled the string back, clasping Haymitch's hand tightly in her own. She was relieved when he returned the pressure. But then Katniss aimed higher and let the arrow fly. It was then Effie realized what a mistake she had made. Katniss might have been looking herself again, but her mind was still in trouble.

Suddenly, she and Haymitch were a team again, working together to keep their tribute alive. District Thirteen were calling for her execution, as was most of the Capital. Everyone else had no idea what to think. The country was a mess with no leader, Snow having been killed by the stampede that had followed after Katniss had shot Coin. Effie made sure that she wasn't locked in a cell, but rather in the guest bedroom she had started in. She allowed them to drug her, enough to keep her calm but not enough the completely numb her pain. She listened to the heart wrenching songs that Katniss sang, and sat at the door crying along with her when it all got too much. Haymitch would always find her, and let her cry on his shoulder. After he would wipe her tears, take her back to her room and tuck her into bed to sleep it off. The trial was grueling. Yet Effie made sure she was there everyday to show support for her Tribute. Haymitch told her again and again that she didn't need to be there but everyday she went back. She was there as they tore her to pieces and she was there when they built her up again, mask back in place, wig on top of her head. Peeta occasionally joined her, but usually left half way through. He was still badly burnt and the hijacked memories still plagued him. To her surprise, Haymitch was always with her. Both of them testified in Katniss's defense and both comforted the other afterwards. It was like they had gone back to when they were friends. Before the baby, before he had even kissed her. She liked it, but she missed that spark of feeling alive, the fire that consumed her when he touched her.

Katniss was cleared to go home, which Effie was thrilled about. Haymitch was to go with her and keep an eye on her, which Effie was not so pleased about. Katniss needed him, this she knew, and she was to stay with Peeta who was still undergoing severe therapy to try and return his memories to what they once were. But she wanted, needed, him to stay. He was the only one she had left. He was the only one she had ever had. Still, Effie saw them off at the hovercraft, smile still on and clipboard in hand. She made him promise to take care of Katniss, and gave him a list of instructions a mile long, which he had pocketed with a rueful smile and probably never looked at again. The hovercraft was about to leave when she stopped him

"Promise I'll see you you again?"

"Of course Princess" he had replied "we're family."

She returned to her tiny little flat, now covered in dust from months of no one living here. Her stuff had been strewn across the ground, her cupboards and drawers completely emptied and even a large painting shredded in the living room. Effie had taken one look at it all and had thrown everything out save for a few sentimental items and had sold the flat to the first person who had been interested and moved into the palace where she helped as a consultant to Plutarch, who was now head of communications. She helped make connections, helped design new tv shows to replace the games and threw parties when ever she could. She lost her demure outlook on life and fought hard to make herself heard. Plutarch got the fright of his life when she found out that he had asked Katniss to sing on a new television show. She told him that he was a despicable bastard and that the poor girl had gone through enough. She had then stormed out, slamming the door behind her. No one had known quite what to say. A week later her notice was on his desk. He begged and pleaded for her to stay, telling her that having her around was helping to keep the peace. She had sat and listened until he told her that this was her home. She looked at him coldly before replying that it was not. She was at his door three days later, knocking on it with her perfect nails and holding her head high

"Effie" he said in disbelief when he opened the door

"Hello Haymitch." She had replied "I've come home."

"Thank god." He breathed before pulling her too him and kissing her like his life depended on it. Before she knew it she was in his bedroom on his bed, with him touching her like she was made of gold. It was slow, gentle and perfect. She fell asleep in his arms that night but not before he whispered in her ear

"I love you." And she had murmured back

"I love you too"

And so life in twelve began, with her puttering around the house and garden and him tending to his geese. She still wore her make-up, but it was just enough to hide the scars and she still complained when people didn't have manners. But the wigs and corsets were a thing of the past. She didn't need to hide anymore.

She and Haymitch never married, never had kids. But everyone in Panem knew they were a team. They occasionally had screaming matches, and once or twice she threw something at him. She refused to let him cook one of his geese and he had insisted that the large mahogany table in the living room was far to large. But when they made up, they behaved like teenagers, holding hands as they walked together, kissing one another on the cheek for no apparent reason, and sleeping together every single night, comforting each other when the nightmares brought the memories back.

Years and years later, when Haymitch was in his seventies the years of drinking finally got to him. In his final days, when he was completely bedridden, Effie was by his side day and night. No one commented on the fact that she wouldn't leave, not even to eat a meal or take a shower, because it was Haymitch and Effie. Completely devoted to one another.

"We've had our adventures haven't we princess?" He asked one afternoon, struggling to keep his eyes open

"We have." She had answered "but I'm so glad they were with you."

He reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze

"So am I, princess, so am I."

Haymitch Abernathy died on a sunny afternoon, with Effie Trinket by his side and his two tributes in the room next door.

Effie Trinkett died three days later, with Katniss on her right, Peeta on her left and a photo of him resting on her chest.

 **Please please review! I know the ending is sad, but with the title I needed to do her whole life**


End file.
